Page 70 of Love at a Funeral and Other Awkward Conversations

“Patch?”

“I’m not sure where the nickname came from, but he was Keiffer’s younger brother.”

“Stupid name,” Vince grumbles.

“You jealous?” The idea makes me giddy, and I trace the line of his shoulder, giggling. I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a good long time.

“Back then, yes.” He slips his arm around my waist and hoists me up to toss me onto the bed. “But you’re with me now.”

I ignore how those words wrap around my clay heart, shaping it into something a little more usable. Something a little more valuable.

“I only did it because I didn’t want to see girls hanging all over you,” I explain, and he crawls over me with a playful grin then nips at my ear and shoulder like it’s payback.

“You were the only one I wanted. And you broke my heart with Patch.”

I laugh, toying with the small pendant on his gold necklace hanging between us. “I didn’t break your heart.”

“No,” he agrees, “but you can.”

It takes my breath away, this simple revelation.

I could break his heart.

“Now,” he starts, skating his hand down my side, “you can make up for that night and all the others you owe me.”

“Yeah?” I help him remove my bra and lift my hips when he tugs my underwear down and off. “There are a lot of nights?”

He nods and presses a kiss between my breasts. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

I guess I don’t. Because the heat of his gaze on my bare skin is more than I expect. Like he’s been waiting not only nights, but years. Those hazel eyes of his flutter like he can’t believe what he’s looking at, even though I’ve never felt all that special. Slim with big hips, long legs with dimpled thighs, and a bust size that’s nothing to write home about.

Yet he stares at me as if I’m flawless.

He tows me to the edge of the mattress, places my legs over his shoulders, and then with only a tiny smile my way as a forewarning, his mouth is on me. His licks are perfect, languorous like I’m a dessert he wants to savor, and maybe I am, if his satisfied moans are any indication. When I sink my fingers into his hair, he mumbles a quiet, “That’s it,” then loops one arm around my hip to press his palm above my pubic bone at the same time he slides two fingers inside me, pushing me closer and closer to climax.

“Never in my wildest dreams as a fourteen-year-old did I think I’d be here with you while you do this,” I pant, and he tips his head up to laugh, his mouth shiny with the evidence of just how well he knows my body.

“Never?” he teases as he lazily plays with my clit.

I shake my head, tugging his head back between my legs.

“So demanding.”

“Please, Vince,” I whine, and he holds my gaze as he licks up the length of me.

“Whatever you want. I’ll give you anything.” He kisses both of my thighs. “Everything.”

Then he returns to my pleasure as if he didn’t just split me in half with his promise.

Like he means it.

Like I’m worth it.

Like he hasn’t merely kick-started my heart into working order but sent it careening off a cliff.

With a cry that’s half agony, half bliss, I orgasm, and he praises me with quiet words as he levers himself over me, his erection hard against my stomach, and I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him close while I recover.

“Since neither one of us really planned this, I assume you didn’t bring condoms, and I don’t have any either,” he tells me, taking time to suck on each of my nipples so what he says doesn’t quite register at first. “But it’s been a while since I had sex, and I was tested after I broke up with Sandi.”

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